


just a drop of water in an endless sea

by crocs



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Daredevil (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, 8+4 Things, Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canonical Character Death, During Canon, Gen, Lesbian Aunt May, Post-Canon, Post-Chosen, Pre-Canon, but it's really, for some of it anyway, there's a hellcat reference in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocs/pseuds/crocs
Summary: "From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer."But what about the Potentials who had already passed girl-hood?Seven Potentials in the MCU that never became Slayers (plus four that did).





	just a drop of water in an endless sea

 

_**one:** _

 

Wesley speaks very carefully, as if she were a child. "Do you really think that I'd put a loaded gun on the table where you could reach it?"

Karen scoffs. Considers.

Lifts the gun, considers its weight.

Aims it at him and considers the clean-up needed.

When she was younger, she used to dream about being other girls. Girls who weren't Karen Page, but yet were. Girls with their heart on their sleeve and the world at their feet. Girls who swapped their lipsticks and nylons for wooden stakes and holy water. Her psychologist said the dreams weren't real.

 _Then how come holding a gun is like muscle memory?_ she considers.

"Do you really think this is the first time I've shot someone?" She asks him, and pulls the trigger.

Five, six times. Overkill. Stupid.

As she wipes away her fingerprints from the table and throws the gun into the river, she considers the last words she said to James Wesley. The last words he will have ever heard. And through her mega freak-out, she laughs.

Because, considering everything, Faith Lehane ( _'does not exist'_ _, 'not real',_ her psychologist insisted) would probably be proud, she thinks.

 

* * *

 

_**two:** _

 

She's attending a university lecture when _he_ comes in. Dr. Erik Selvig smiles at the audience before setting his messenger bag down and getting out his stuff.

The first time she met him was at age eight. She'd been having nightmares about monsters and the things that go bump in the night for several weeks now when a man with an accent showed up at the front door, claiming to be something called a Watcher. Her parents had sent her upstairs.

She eavesdropped instead.

Dr. Selvig stayed with them six months. Sort of like an unwanted live-in tutor. He became a father figure, almost -- but half a year after he first showed up at their doorstep, he got a phone call.

_The slayer is dead, and rises again._

She wished she hadn't eavesdropped that time. Within a week, Dr. Selvig was sent off back to wherever he had flown from, and that was the end of that. She wasn't the _slayer._

When the lecture finishes, Jane has 78% made up her mind. She strides up to the front as everyone leaves out the back, and waits.

"Can I help you?" says the doctor, without turning around.

She clears her throat. "My name is Dr. Jane Foster. We met... a while ago, I don't know if you remember me, but --"

He pulls her into a hug.

 

* * *

 

_**three + four:** _

 

When she has the accident, the dreams dissipate. Cease being a problem. Don't continue. 

She can still remember them, recall them, they're stuck in the back of her mind like a tape stuck on repeat and she can't change that. But they stop _actively_ being a problem.

What actually starts being a problem?

Jess... now has superpowers. She holds the broken sink in her too strong hands as Patsy (call me Trish) looks on in horror.

 _Stop gaping,_ she wants to say. _You look like an idiot_.

But she doesn't.

She stands there, with a sink in her arms, and lets Patsy's shock wash over her.

Until it's not shock, and more wonder.

They... end up making a blanket fort, which is not the weirdest coping method Jess has ever seen, but it's up there. Patsy is very authoritative when she tells Jess what to do, which would be funny if it Jess wasn't completely focussing on the idea of a teen idol ratting her out to the government. They hide under it, and Jess is nearly falling asleep when the other girl speaks up.

"I'm kinda not ordinary, too."

Jess snorts. "Oh, yeah? Well, what's your damage?"

Patsy gives a face that kind of looks like a hellish cat. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

She shuffles, and says, "I have dreams. Not nice ones. The creatures that go bump in the night, that sort of thing. I... stop them."

Oh.

Oh.

"And... now you carry a stake with you everywhere you go?" Jess asks, faux causally.

Pats-- _Trish_ asks her how she knows. Jess taps the side of her nose, and Trish's delighted laughter sounds like bells --

_You're like me, you're like me --_

except she isn't, anymore.

 

* * *

 

_**five + six:** _

 

New York City. Hotspot for vampires and humans alike. And, by the way Pointy-Fanged over there was leering at that girl, the manners of the underworld hadn't changed one bit. May sips her water (not the holy version, though that _was_ in her handbag as well, shaped like a pepper spray) and waits. Watches.

Not with a capital W, but she can take what she gets.

The vamp starts dancing with the girl to _Mambo No. Five._ May twirls her leadless pencil.

The Slayer's apparently in some place called Sunnydale, all the way in California. And, even though they were both in the running to gain mystical powers and start staking vamps, this Buffy chick was the winner of the grand prize. Unfortunately, with that grand prize of Slayerage, the power of being in two places at once is not included. 'Please read the terms and conditions before you apply'. So, she and some other potentials emigrated to big cities, in order to keep said cities safe. If she didn't say so herself, they were doing a pretty fine job.

Ooh, action. Vampire plus pretty girl plus leading her out of the club equals -- not good. She abandons her drink (but tips the bartender, she's not heartless) and weaves her way through the crowd to the back door.

"Hey!" She yells, and when the vamp turns to her it takes all the power she has not to flinch, because that face? A train wreck. Ew. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Okay, it's not the most original line.

The girl runs away from them, screaming at the vamp's face. Yeah, definitely needs some moisturiser, thinks May.

"And what makes you think you could take on me alone, little girl?"

She kicks him in the solar plexus, and stakes him in the heart. Which -- okay, she wanted to have a little chat with whoever decided vamps turned into dust because not a good idea, thank you very much.

She turns around to go back to the club, when a hand grips her by the shoulder. Momentary fear -- she _definitely_ staked that vamp, didn't she? -- before turning around and hefting her pencil-stake in the air, ready to strike.

It's kind of funny when the girl with her hand on May's shoulder lifts her own stake in response. May laughs, the girl (who will later inevitably introduce herself as Benny Parker over a pizza) laughs, and it seems like they will keep laughing forever, in that small moment. They fall in bed together later that night, and fall in love over breakfast in the morning.

 

* * *

 

_**seven:** _

 

 _Tony hasn't slept in two days_ , Happy informs her when he brings her her fifth macchiato. He doesn't say _Pepper, you are the only one who can convince him to go to sleep because you have magic PA powers that the rest of us will never understand_ , but the look he's giving her is damn near close enough.

She strides down the endless labyrinth of corridors, parts the Red Sea of confused interns and her sharpened heels click-clack on the floor as she makes her way to Tony's workshop. She crosses her arms and waits. When the drill stops, it somehow sounds guilty.

Tony's head pops out from behind the new suit he's making. He starts talking a mile a minute in order to distract her from telling him to take a damn nap. It would probably work if she wasn't tuning him out completely.

"Happy tells me you haven't rested for two days, Tony," she interrupts. He looks at her as if she's grown a second head.

"Well, Pep, I've survived on less," he replies, and his eyebrows furrow. "Why, are you worried about me?"

 _A little_. "I'm worried about everyone, Tony."

"I'm not everyone."

" _Tony --"_

Tony points at her from across the room and says, "You know, I've been wanting to see you. We have something to discuss."

"I'm not letting you build a suit for me."

Tony looks guilty. "That... might not be an option."

"It is an option."

"I've, ah, already built one for you."

Pepper counts to ten. "I can take of myself." _And so can all the others like me. The ones who were not activated._

"Yes, I know, I know this, but --"

"Drop it, Tony. No suit. No dice."

Tony goes silent. "It would make _me_ feel safer if you had one."

She agrees, in the end. And if she has to go and stake some vampires, with one of the mini-slayers, afterwards? None of Tony's business.

 

* * *

 

_**plus four:** _

 

Mr. Harris looks kinda like he wants to pull his hair out. Suddenly, MJ wishes she had her sketchbook. Harris _totally_ counts as a 'person in crisis'.

"No, being a Slayer will not give you a discount in any stores," he says, looking like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. _Was that actually possible?_

"But," replies Betty Brant, sitting on the chair next to her, "what if, like, I save someone from a vamp and they own a bodega near me and they give me a discount on my next shop?"

Mr. Harris sighs. "Well, I suppose that counts." He surveys the principal's office and leans back on Morita's desk. "You all seem to be taking this very well."

Gwen Stacy snorts and Liz leans forward. "Respectfully, sir?" she starts, "we're New Yorkers. Not much phases us. Aliens dropped from the sky a few years ago."

"And our local vigilante wears red spandex and shoots webs out of his hands," chimes in Gwen.

MJ looks Mr. Harris in the eye. "So, when do we start?"

**Author's Note:**

> haha guys i DO NOT own btvs or the mcu lmao


End file.
